


Nothing Hurts When You Win

by slipthroughknot



Category: Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipthroughknot/pseuds/slipthroughknot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from a modern life and a modern arena<br/>Note:  A work in progress.  Some liberties taken with American football and Michigan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Agron

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies, readers - fic currently on hiatus due to family crisis. (as of May 5, 2012)

This was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard of. 

"It is not," their quarterback said, looking a little hurt. "It will build team solidarity. I think we need every edge we can get so we call each other by our hero names instead of our regular names. A team that sticks together wins together."

"Roman gladiators though? That’s not just dorky -- it's pretty fucking gay."

Their QB raised an eyebrow at the word choice. "I'm serious. We're somehow last and I know we have the best players in the state, which doesn't make any sense. We have to build a bond that we all respect and treat the field like a fight."

The team rolled their collective eyes, but their QB didn't lead them because he gave up easily. "We're doing this. Call me Spartacus," he said.

The groans from a group of frustrated, hormonal teenagers echoed throughout the locker room. 

"Pick your goddamned names already," Spartacus said, raising his voice.

"Fine, I pick Agron." He looked at Spartacus and noted the satisfied smirk on his face. "You geek," Agron said. "You deliberately timed this after convincing us to take that fucking history elective, didn't you?" 

Spartacus just grinned, and the rest of the team picked their names grudgingly, knowing when they were beat. Spartacus could be an over-earnest dork sometimes, but there wasn't even the slightest doubt that he knew how to lead. Agron was loyal, and he swore to himself then that he'd do his part, even if this was the dumbest thing he'd ever participated in willingly in his life.

~ ~ ~ ~

Because God didn't exist, Agron was roomed with Crixus at the beginning of the fall semester. They both tried, begged and pleaded to switch with other people but it either wouldn't work for the people they begged or the rest of their friends were sadistic bastards determined to see them suffer. Gannicus was the biggest asshole of all and just laughed when Agron brought up the idea and for laughing, he was on Agron's List. The only one who came up with a good reason for not rooming with Crixus was Naevia, who said that she wasn't ready for that kind of commitment yet. Agron knew better than to lie to himself at bothering to hide the twinge of glee at seeing Crixus' disappointed face, but he paid for it afterwards with Crixus' relentless moping.

"He's driving me fucking nuts," Agron complained over Skype to Saxa. He sat bare-chested on the computer and scratched slightly at his scar. The weather was still warm enough in September in East Lansing and he was grateful for that.

_("What would my gladiator name be?" she had asked during a Skype session right after the naming debacle._

_"Oh God, please don't join in this crap."_

_"Be right back," she'd said, her screen blinking out. After a few minutes, her image flashed back on the screen and she said "My gladiator name is Saxa. Simple enough for you?"_

_"I'm surrounded by losers, even from long distance," Agron said._

_"You'll pay for that," she said, and Agron knew better than to respond because she was an incurable tease and expert noogie-giver. Thank God he wasn't going back to Braubach anytime soon -- he'd only ever gone for a couple of summers when he was a kid, a time he marked Before even in his head.)_

"Oh give it up," she said. "You wouldn't be doing it if you didn't think it was cool on some level."

"This is not cool on any level."

"Says the guy who picked his gladiator name right after the leader." Her scoff, even with the crappy webcam, was eloquent and derisive. 

"You have to remind me why I'm supposed to like you again," Agron said.

She got that look on her face, a dreamy, wistful reminiscing and that expression always made Agron's chest feel hollow. They were at different stages of acceptance, which made sense, but while she could now look back and feel pleased half the time, Agron still felt raw and incomplete. There would be always be something vital missing.

"He would have told you to just make peace with Crixus," she said, her voice quieter, subdued with memory.

"After making fun of me first for letting it get to me," he replied. He was lost in memory of his brother -- football in autumn, fast food runs in the middle of the night, Agron always losing to him but never, ever minding.

Their conversation tapered off after that. Agron loved her for letting it die but staying online anyway. Things were rarely awkward between the two of them, and he always appreciated it when she just let things remain quiet, for letting things be.

~ ~ ~ ~

Everyone wore tragedy in a different way. Agron has been told that he still looks over his shoulder, expecting someone to be there. Spartacus would be quiet on odd, unpredictable times, his eyes glazed and lost. Agron had seen Naevia once scream and beg for her life when Crixus startled her by accident in their dorm room, and even though nothing had been said, Agron had a clue of what had happened that caused that fractured look that appeared on Naevia's face. He never, ever wanted to see it again.

"Don't ever fucking repeat what you saw here," Crixus had threatened. "I will rip your useless throat out with my bare hands."

And for once, Agron held his tongue and nodded. Naevia's tears did more than Crixus' words ever could and maybe, maybe, Agron could concede that Crixus wasn't a total waste of oxygen and DNA outside of the football field.

~ ~ ~ ~

Agron liked Septembers, even if it did mean the start of school. Academics he could do without sometimes but football was something else, and it made the painful hours writing papers about dead English writers and working models of ligaments and muscles worth it. It was still unseasonably warm so he walked to the team hangout in his shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops, relishing the breeze and the fresh air. Easy enough to forget grief on days like this.

The team met at an Italian cafe called Thrace during the weekends, both of which made no sense. Not all of them made it all the time, but enough of them would that they got a reputation for it, certainly enough that the owners would reserve two booths near the windows. It was a pretty crappy cafe, but Mira worked there part time and they could get day old biscotti and crullers if they came at the right time. They were only rarely kicked out, so they studied here too on occasion. This was on days they weren't practicing or weren't reeling, stinking drunk.

He smiled at Mira and went to the team’s customary spot. He sat down beside Spartacus, who waved him in to sit beside him because the other option was between Crixus and Gannicus. Mira swung around to their table.

"No free pastry today," she said, looking around the table and lingering a bit at Spartacus before looking at Agron. "What are you having?"

"Large coffee, black. Make it Irish," he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. Agron stared back. 

"Why is it that the women in my life always have that expression on their face?"

"Because you always say stupid shit like that," she said. She grabbed a sugar packet and flicked it at him so fast he didn't have time to block it, the packet hitting him squarely between the eyes.

"It's not like you haven't done it before," he whined.

"Like I want you drunk when he's coming here."

"Who's coming here?" Crixus asked.

"Nasir," Mira said.

Crixus and Spartacus nodded in tandem, looking like bobble head dolls for a second. A sign of respect. To hear his friends and Crixus talk about him, Nasir was like an asshole who turned out to be a winged unicorn in disguise. In conversations Agron has had with his friends in the past month that Nasir entered their circle, he's heard:

Spartacus (during a break between studying for his exams in International Policy and organizing a Change.org petition for fair trade coffee in Central America) - "Didn't like him at first. I was on my way to a rally to support the uprising in the Middle East when this guy picks a fight, saying a white man shouldn't speak for Arabs and Africans, because what do we know? To be fair, it's true, but I wasn't there to lead the protest. You have to support those who want to overthrow those who would make men and women cower under their power. But we got our issues settled, and he's been amazing ever since."

Crixus (under duress to be civil by Naevia during a party) - "Didn't trust him in the beginning, with that fight with Spartacus. But he helped Naevia out a lot. He's OK."

Lugo (drunk like no one’s business and somewhat slutty – Agron had to peel his hands off): “The tiny man is tougher than he looks!”

Mira (during a coffee order that she got wrong but he drank anyway) - "I had issues with him at the start because of the Spartacus thing, but he's been really great actually. Especially with Naevia."

Naevia (they were not friends yet but Agron would like them to be) - "He and Mira saved my life."

All this was swirling in Agron's head when he heard Mira say 'hi' to someone behind him. He turned around and saw a man of average height with long, dark hair. Smooth brown skin. Dark eyes with long lashes. Slim, but with tight muscles that his sweater didn't really hide. And as hard as Agron tried to fight it, as much as he tried to resist, something in him _shifted_.

"This is--" he heard Mira say, pointing at him but Agron didn't hear it. It felt like he was moving in molasses, a fly being trapped in amber. Nasir reached forward to shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you," Nasir said with an accent Agron couldn't identify.

"Pleasure's mine," Agron replied. "It's nice to put a name to the face."

"Same here," Nasir said, and smiled.

I'm in trouble, Agron thought.


	2. Nasir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a terrible, terrible racial and sexual slur.

Nasir learned about the Michigan State Spartans in degrees, mainly by getting into fights with the actual players or helping the women in their lives. Even the women were indoctrinated into calling them by their gladiator names, Naevia using Crixus interchanged with his real name, Mira doing the same with Spartacus.

"Sparty can be such a dork," Naevia had said during a study session, "but he has a way of making you see his point of view."

Nasir didn't share his opinion of _Spartacus_ then, even though he'd grown to appreciate Spartacus' earnest attempts to change the world. Crixus on the other hand took a long while to warm up to, and even now Nasir still watched his step. He knew Naevia was the only reason Crixus didn't snarl at him on occasion, despite her stern warnings. He didn't care though -- he found a kindred spirit with both women, sensing in them a strong core that he gravitated towards. He may have played a part in saving Naevia's life at one point, but Naevia and Mira saved him in little ways every day and for that he was incredibly grateful.

"Ignore the idiots who call you a terrorist," Naevia had commanded. "They're ridiculous, and I know you know this already, but people who can't even be racist in a correct way don't deserve any consideration."

"You must get called worse," Nasir had replied.

"Yeah, but I think it's a great litmus test," she said. "Anyone who says anything like that to me I know I have no use for. Anyone who hears me being called that word and does nothing I don't have a particular use for either." She leaned towards him, their foreheads touching. "You and me and Mira against the world." She smiled, and she didn't do that too often right now so Nasir was struck by how beautiful she was when she looked happy, appreciated then why Crixus was so protective of her. He would have done the same, as many times as needed.

"Don't underestimate the boys," Naevia said. "They're good people, even if they are overgrown kids. Do you really think I would stick with Crixus if he was a Neanderthal? Do you think Mira would pine like she does for Spartacus if he was an idiot? If you don't like them that's fine, but respect what we think of them."

So Nasir smiled at Crixus and squirmed with embarrassment when he watched Crixus attempt a smile that came out like a grimace, and Nasir waved at Spartacus and Spartacus would approach and talk about the unfairness of some sharia laws and Nasir would listen attentively for as long as possible. It was the least he could do for the women in his life.

~ ~ ~ ~

If Naevia grounded him and made him appreciate human resilience, Mira was the one who could find unexpected humor in the worst places.

"Terrorist is nothing," Mira said as she wiped a counter clean at an empty Thrace. "You want to hear the worst insult I've ever heard?"

"I don't know if I want to hear it," Nasir said, poking at the day old cruller in front of him.

"Cunt eyes," Mira said, and attacked the counter with her cloth.

"You're kidding," Nasir said, horrified. 

"Top that, bitch." Mira grinned. She looked down at the counter and raised an eyebrow. "That's the worst cruller in the history of the world. Agron would be offended by it."

"Haven't met him."

"Really? That's bizarre. He's attached to Spartacus' left hip."

"Why left?" 

"Crixus has the right. I'm sure you've seen him around though, right?" Mira put the rag under the counter and leaned her elbows on it. "Tall guy, green eyes, nice body?"

Nasir rolled his eyes. "I think you're forgetting what the entire football team looks like."

"If you see Spartacus around, he's usually with two guys. Agron is the one who isn't Crixus."

He's left with an image of a tall man he's brushed by on occasion, a broad back that Spartacus goes around when Nasir waves at him, a profile of him in a green helmet staring resentfully at Crixus. "I can sort of picture him," he said.

"He'll be here tonight. Come by."

They haven't been friends for long, but the bonds they've built were already deep, deep enough that Nasir knew Mira was trying something. "Is this a set up?"

"No," Mira scoffed, but it was a twinge too casual. Besides, she would never buckle even if she actually was trying something, so Nasir shrugged and went back to picking the worst cruller in the world. Apparently, his potential set-up would have been insulted by it, so he popped a morsel in his mouth and cringed at the mixture of terrible flavors.

"I know one thing we'll both dislike at least," he muttered under his breath.

~ ~ ~ ~

To hear his friends describe him, Agron was the proverbial, stereotypical guy's guy with a heart of gold.

Naevia (a quiet night in her room with her wanting to talk about nothing of consequence, Crixus pacing out in the hallway in throes of rage over his helplessness): "I don't know him that well, mainly because Crixus hates his guts and the feeling seems to be mutual. He seems like a nice guy though. A bit rough around the edges, but he means well. Sort of like a golden retriever who has occasional rabies."

Crixus (outside Naevia's room when he was done pacing, when Naevia needed a minute or two before he came in): "He's a fucking asshole."

Dara (in a club smiling at some big burly guy Nasir wouldn't dream of touching): "Oh God, Agron is so hot. You're being set up with him? I'm sooo jealous!"

Spartacus (in Facebook chat as his post about Joseph Kony was attracting likes): "The best defensive tackle in the school. There's no one you'd rather have at your back."

Mira (he's helping behind the counter and they're checking out the men in Thrace): "He's big in every sense of the word. Except that one, thank you, and no I haven't seen it and don't particularly want to. Ew! That's like checking out my brother. What I mean is, he does everything in a big way, you know? And it can be a bit much, but he does it because he doesn't know any other way of doing things. It's really sweet when it isn't annoying, but that doesn't happen a lot."

That night, he went to Thrace in his best jeans and a thin sweater. He tied his long hair back and wondered again if he should cut it. The walk to Thrace from his room took about ten minutes and he kept his expectations low. There was no such thing at love at first sight, but he believed that if he walked away from the first meeting wanting to know when a birthday was or where they had traveled or what book they said they'd read but actually hadn't -- that would be a good start. 

When he walked in, Mira waved him over to where the football team obviously was, and he recognized the familiar sight of Agron's back. Agron then turned around, reached out a hand with a smile as big as the rest of him. Muscular body that should have been intimidating but wasn't. Big, bright eyes filled with life. And this something Nasir recognized on an instinctive level -- a sense of loss, a family member if Nasir could place a wager on it, something he was all too familiar with, with the death of his mother and brother a specter over his life.

"Nice to meet you," Nasir said, trying not to stare.

"Pleasure's mine. Nice to put a name to the face," Agron said.

"Same here." Nasir tried to smile in a restrained way, but he was already lining up the questions in his head. Are you German? Who just died in your life? How do you take your coffee, or tea, or water? Just how offended are you by the crullers here? Do you want to go now, right now?

I'm in trouble, Nasir thought.


	3. Agron

There were things that Agron can remember from that first night, but none of them appeared to be significant at first glance. He didn't make a fool of himself, he was reasonably sure of that at least. He made Nasir laugh a couple of times. But after Nasir came everyone else followed: Naevia, Donar, Rhaskos (who got a slight grimace from Nasir -- interesting) and Lugo, who upon seeing Nasir gave him a bear hug and a noogie, which Nasir seemed to tolerate with good humor punctuated by a swift jab to Lugo's stomach.

"What's the story there?" Agron asked.

Nasir and Lugo laughed. "A long one," they said, almost in unison. "A good one," Lugo added.

There wasn't much time to talk with the entire group there, but Agron had a good time. He stuck close to Nasir with a mixture of intention and an odd, helpless compulsion and could only hope that Nasir didn't mind. 

The things that stuck in his memory:

\- Nasir's cologne smelled like citrus.

\- Got into MSU on a premed scholarship.

\- He had a stretched ear piercing with a piece of antique wood in his right earlobe.

_("Did that hurt?" Agron asked._

_"Not as much as you'd expect."_

_"What's the wood?"_

_Nasir turned to him, a sad smile on his face. "A gift. A reminder.")_

\- Liked his coffee black and hated the crullers at Thrace.

\- He was always the first one to help Mira when she was carrying a big load of drinks. Done so quickly and with an estabished pattern that it was obvious they'd done it before, and Agron wondered how he missed seeing him here if this was where they learned.

\- He had really good handwriting.

_(His email address, written on a napkin, was nasir.alassad@gmail.com._

_"I have a very small group of friends on Facebook," Nasir said. "My phone's there too."_

_"I'll check it out," Agron promised sincerely, which seemed to surprise Nasir, who then asked for his information. Agron looked around for more napkins but Nasir shook his head._

_"Knowing me," he said, dry as desert bone, "I'll just lose it. Write it on my hand."_

_Agron wrote it out slowly so that it wouldn't blur, his personal email address that only his friends and future employers knew: a.eberhardt@gmail.com. His phone number didn't quite come out as well, but it was an impulsive decision.)_

\- Nasir's pulse raced when Agron wrapped a hand around his wrist so that his e-mail address could be written legibly. 

They dispersed at around 10:30, Crixus heading home with Naevia as a small mercy. He smiled at Nasir and said "See you around." Nasir nodded, smiled back and disappeared around the corner.

Agron studied when he got back, but he was distracted. After a few more futile minutes of reading the same paragraph over and over, he went to bed and stared at the ceiling, his thoughts adrift.

~ ~ ~ ~

Their second encounter was sharper, clearer, somehow more solid. Agron was walking through the Beal Botanical Gardens after a lecture and saw Nasir sitting on the grass, shaded by a tree. The unseasonal warmth had already faded and an autumn chill was setting in, but bright and warm sunlight moderated the temperature to something pleasant and bearable. There was a steady shower of brown and red and yellow leaves, a couple of which Nasir flicked off his hair and off the pages of the book he was reading. It was five o'clock in the afternoon.

"Hey," Agron said, stopping to crouch in front of him. Nasir smiled and closed his book. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

Nasir shook his head and patted the area beside him. 

"What are you reading?"

"The Shock Doctrine. Spartacus recommended it."

"Oh God," Agron said. "Don't tell me you joined the reading group on his blog."

"I actually like Aequitas," Nasir admitted, ducking his head, which Agron tried not to find charming. "But don't tell him I said that. At least not yet."

"Why not?"

Nasir tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "I actually agree with Spartacus on a lot of things. But sometimes I think he needs a different perspective. He gets really fired up and forgets sometimes."

"Forgets?"

"That the cause is bigger than any of us."

"Makes him a fucking good quarterback though."

Nasir turned to face him fully. "You'll have to teach me the game sometime."

Agron tried not to boggle at that statement. "You don't know football?"

"Not American football. I grew up playing soccer because that's what my dad played in Aleppo."

"Where's that?" 

Nasir smiled. "Syria."

Agron may not read the news religiously, but even he knew some of the basics. "Do you still have family there? Are they safe?"

"As safe as they can be at the moment." Nasir shook his head. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Sorry," Agron said, feeling a twinge of shame.

"Don't be." Nasir looked at him again, and Agron got a good look at his eyes, brown with flecks of warm amber along the edges. "So, football?"

Agron grinned, glad the awkwardness was behind them. "Don't think of it as a game with a pigskin. Think of it as an arena."

"So Spartacus' naming strategy was actually a good move?" Nasir's amusement was clear and vivid, and Agron wanted to see more of it.

"Yeah," he admitted, and leaned closer to Nasir. "But don't tell him I said that." 

 

 

 

"...And my parents immigrated from Braubach in 1990," Agron said. "We've gone back on vacations a couple of times, and I've got some cousins I'm close to."

"I've never been to Germany," Nasir said, standing up from their spot under the tree and brushing dirt from his jeans. Agron snuck a look before getting up himself.

"You should go if you get the chance. The cruise on the river's fucking awesome."

"When I'm a rich doctor," Nasir said grandly.

"And when I'm an NFL player." They started walking towards Nasir's dorm room at the Brody Complex. The sun was setting behind them, painting everything with a warm glow, the air getting cooler by the minute.

"You didn't explain that part to me," Nasir said, "the draft process."

"Do you have a day?" Agron said, joking.

Nasir faced him in that direct way of his, something Agron wanted to steer away from and meet head on at the same time. "I'll make time," he said, and Agron couldn't help it, knew he was going to smile that his brother called doofy. Nevertheless, he beamed at Nasir.

 

 

 

"--and Mira gets in there and nails this asshole at Thrace with an ice cube right between the eyes," Nasir said in between bites of adobo marinated chicken tacos. They'd taken a detour when Agron's stomach rumbled like a freight train on the way to the dorms.

"What is with her and that spot?" Agron asked. One of his burritos still stayed untouched, but he'd plowed his way through the shredded pork quesadilla.

"She says it's good practice."

"I didn't even know MSU had an archery club until I met her," Agron said. The burrito was looking really good, but the restaurant closed at eight, so he decided not to eat it just yet. He hated being rushed.

 

 

 

Agron burped, but luckily not on Nasir's face. He was about to apologize when Nasir laughed.

"Sorry," he apologized anyway. 

Nasir shook his head. "My brother could have probably beat you." From the expression that settled on his face, Agron knew that he hadn't meant to say that.

"My brother used to beat me at that too."

"Used to?" Nasir was keeping his head down. "Not anymore?"

And with that, Agron had to look away too. "No," he said, that phantom limb-like pain resurfacing. "He died a year ago."

"I'm sorry," Nasir whispered.

Agron chuckled, but it came out pained, and even with his best efforts, a familiar grim mood began to settle despite the company.

"I wish we didn't have that in common," Nasir continued. Agron looked at Nasir and saw an echo of his grief, a fractured reflection, different in many ways but similar enough that Agron could reach for this lifeline.

"Me too," he said. 

The moon lit everything with a silver glow, even with its partial appearance. The paths had occasional students but Agron thought they had a bubble around them just then. Untouchable.

 

 

 

Without fully meaning to, they took the longest, most circuitous route to get to Brody Complex. When they got to the front of the building, only a few students were out and about. They retreated close to the farthest rung on the bike racks.

"Thank you," Nasir said.

Agron knew he couldn't read it this wrong, but he felt a quick burst of adrenaline anyway, like what he got before going into the stadium and hearing the cheers. He reached out to cup Nasir's cheek, his thumb stroking the antique earring in Nasir's ear. He leaned in.

There were no fireworks. What happened instead was something slotting into place. Agron tasted tacos first, then something innately Nasir. He had leaned over first, their bodies forming a lopsided arch with their unequal heights, but Nasir stepped in and stretched up on his tiptoes to deepen the kiss while Agron slid one hand in Nasir's luxurious hair while using the other to pull Nasir closer.

They had been out the entire night but this was when Agron lost complete track of time. Everything seemed to center on this connection, and there was a small, irrational part of Agron that noted how well Nasir kissed and resented the hell out of whoever taught him that because he felt like he was bumbling about, a newborn calf struggling to walk with someone already leaping away.

"Stop thinking," Nasir murmured between breaths, and flicked his tongue in Agron's mouth, in that sensitive spot behind his two front teeth. Agron's knees buckled slightly (and he would deny it even to Nasir), but he stopped thinking as ordered.

Nasir eventually drew back. "I'd like to wait."

Agron nodded, and he thought that he would have been disappointed, but he was the farthest thing from it. "Goodnight, Nasir."

"Goodnight."

When Nasir disappeared from view, Agron looked up at the night time sky. The stars were out, but not in full force. The moon was a sharp crescent. For the first time in a long time, he felt lighter. Freer. Grief receded to the background and he knew that it would dominate again, but it was nice to have it be a dull voice at the back instead of the cheering crowd.

"You're getting sentimental," he mumbled to himself, but found that he didn't really mind.


	4. Nasir

Nasir has a cell phone that he used only for emergencies. Most of the time the batteries ran out only because it stayed on for so long, and while he received the odd text here and there from Dara, the people in his life had long ago learned that Nasir carrying one of the badges of modern living didn't necessarily mean that Nasir participated.

That was changing though. When they entered his life, Mira and Naevia started to send texts at least once a day and once Nasir got in the habit of answering theirs-- under the threat of disembowelment -- he started to respond to Dara's texts. But then, one had to respond to pictures of Rhaskos' dick suddenly appearing on one's phone.

> Gross!

> OMG, Nasir?!?! U texted back?

> You sent me a picture of a cock!

> SHIIIT! But its fucking impressive, isnt it?

> ...Yeah.

> I dont know why i didnt think of sending dicks before

Agron was a surprise. Not that Nasir ever thought he was stupid, but Agron's texts were perfectly worded and spelled out and had no internet lingo on them. 

> I thought you might want to come to one of our practices before we went out.

> Sure. What time?

> 5:00pm. Mira and Naevia will be there. I think your friend Dara might also come, but I'm not sure.

> I'd be there even if the girls weren't. I'm curious.

> Great!

And Agron must have told the entire team that he was coming, because Mira texted soon afterwards.

> U r now a football wife

> No.

> Yup. Make sure 2 go thru Gate E so u don't get hassled

And so on a cool autumn afternoon, Nasir made his way to the imposing Spartan Stadium. He didn't follow football but he knew better than to wander around whenever there was a home game being played. It was actually perfect for studying, with seemingly half the people either at games, near the games or drinking. He went through Gate E as instructed and followed the serpentine paths of the stadium to get near the front, where he could see Naevia and Mira sitting, their heads bent down. When he got closer, he saw that they were reading textbooks.

"I thought we'd actually be watching," he said, picking the seat beside Naevia.

"Are you kidding?" Naevia said. Her book was called Intermediate Microeconomics: A Modern Approach, which sounded like a nightmare. "They just go through their drills and practice. This is a perfect time to study."

"Yup," Mira said. She flipped her copy of the same economics book over and grabbed her notes. "Now that you're in the conscientious football wives' club, you go to practice anytime you want to get studying done. It's quiet and the only people who can be here are staff, the players and whoever has special access." She gave him a sly glance, to which Nasir rolled his eyes.

"Good way to learn football too," Naevia added. "There's only so much you can learn through osmosis. That said, bring your reading the next time."

Nasir then looked at the stadium in front of him, so much bigger than he thought. To his uninformed eyes, all the team seemed to be doing was running randomly from end to the other with occasional tackling and throwing. 

"He's number 7," Mira said. "Sparty's number 1 -- shut up -- and Crixus is number 5."

A whistle sounded and when Nasir turned his attention to the field, a formidable looking African American man was gesturing in tight, angular ways at the team. Nasir couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was fascinating to see the players keep their posture straight when he was speaking.

"Is that their coach?" 

"They call him the Doctor, but yeah, he's the coach."

The Doctor then waved the team off and stalked off in another direction. A dejected looking team went to the bench, but Spartacus, Crixus and Agron split off. Nasir waved at all three of them as they approached. Agron took off his helmet and smiled at Nasir, then said "Shit, I'll get you some water," and sprinted back to the bench.

"Nasir, Mira," Crixus said, giving them both a nod. When he looked at Naevia, his face smoothed out and his stern mouth, so often yelling or scowling at everyone, curved into a smile. It still looked frightening but it clearly had a different effect on Naevia, who grabbed Crixus' hand and laid a swift, gentle kiss on his knuckles.

Spartacus waved at the group and sat down on the seat directly below Mira. He leaned his back to look at Mira upside down and Nasir could see Mira melt and then put a heroic effort into shoring back her defenses. He wondered if Spartacus even saw Mira sometimes, or if his causes and devotion to making the world a better place made everyone pale in comparison.

"Here," Agron returned, holding a bottle of water. His face was smudged with dirt and grass stains, his hair matted with sweat, his stubble concealing the slightly rounded contours of his face. He was grinning widely with his dimples on prominent display, and if Nasir ever had doubts, they were swept away with so little effort that he'd usually be more panicked if he wasn't so excited instead.

"Thank you," he said. "I know you explained it all to me, but I still don't quite get it yet."

"You will," Agron said. "Come on, I'll show you around." He waved at Mira and Naevia, then tilted his head in invitation. Nasir followed and they spent the next few minutes in silence, Nasir getting a feel for the place and the aura of expectation that the stadium seemed to hold.

"This is a great place," Nasir said. "I can't imagine the pressure though, when this entire place is filled up with people."

"It's a rush. I don't really have words to describe it." Agron's gaze and thoughts seemed to drift, and Nasir watched the unguarded expressions flit on his face, charmed by the bone deep contentment that Agron radiated.

"What time do you finish?"

"Maybe about an hour." Agron flashed that smile again. "I was hoping you'd stay and watch, figure out the game. It'd be weird if I went out with someone who didn't know what I did half the day.

"It'll probably be a long, slow process," Nasir said. Agron smiled and wrapped a huge arm over Nasir's shoulders. He envied Agron for a moment then, for being free to be himself and having been for quite some time. Nasir had lived a different life before coming to this school, a life of narrow hallways with no doors except one, a door he opened and fled from without looking back. But here now, wrapped up in Agron's life and arms and smell that he should have minded but didn't, he let the envy go. He tucked himself into Agron's side, heard the stifled gasp of surprise above him, and settled into the possibility of having this just for him.

~ ~ ~ ~

"ID please," the cashier asked. Nasir stood by Agron and fought hard not to burst out laughing as Agron handed over a fake ID. Agron shuffled in place, as if hearing a beat in his own head, a bad simulation of casual.

"Have you seen the president of the university yet?" Agron asked, a deliberate stupid expression on his face. Nasir shook his head. "She got a haircut and every girl's imitating it. Can't blame 'em -- she's fucking hot," Agron said. "I'd fuck her. Total MILF, man."

Nasir bit his lip and counted to three. "I've been studying too much, I guess," he said. Easier to stick to the truth when someone else was putting on such an act. His cell phone beeped and that helped with the act; he put it on vibrate without looking at the message and returned it to his pocket.

"I bet she gets donors just by wearing a low cut dress. Don't know why she married such a dork though. You should see them, man. She's like this Amazon who can cut your balls off by looking and she married this midget."

"Hey," Nasir said. "Watch where you're going with height jokes." 

Amazingly, the act seemed to have worked. After casting another glance at them, the cashier took their cash and they walked out of the store with a bottle of tequila. Nasir started to run from the store so that his laughter wouldn't give them away, but it escaped anyway. Agron ran ahead, whooping at the top of his lungs.

"The key, padawan," Agron said, "is to act young and stupid enough if the age on your ID can let you get away with it. That's the mistake people make when they get fake IDs -- they always put an age a lot older than they actually are. Mine just says 21."

"I don't drink that often, but I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Nasir said. 

"Let's go back to my room," Agron said and started heading that way. Nasir grabbed his hand to stop him, and this was still new enough that they stopped at the contact.

"Let's go to mine," Nasir said. "I have a single." He really had to build a defense against Agron's wide open sky smiles, he thought.

"Lead the way."

He looked up to meet Agron's eyes. "I'd still like to wait." So new, this thing between them. They've known of each other for about two months, met each just last week, but it already felt like they landed in a groove of their own, with rhythms and patterns for something much older when what they had was still nascent.

"I know," Agron said. "I wasn't expecting that." He cleared his throat and added, "Any space where Crixus won't just come in without warning is a good space."

Nasir kept his hold on Agron's large, capable hand. "Come on," he said. Agron's grip tightened and they walked towards the dorms. They were quiet, but it was a companionable silence, an assurance of a connection that didn't need to be discussed to exist.

~ ~ ~ ~

The tequila, for all the trouble that they went to get it, remained in its bag on the floor of Nasir's room. He pointed this out as he arched his neck, Agron biting his pulse point.

"Tequila's always welcome somewhere else," Agron mumbled.

Nasir coaxed Agron into going on top. It has been a long time since he welcomed the weight of someone who could easily overpower him, and he loved the near-stifling feeling of having someone as solid as Agron pressed as close to him as possible. They weren't fucking yet, but he can't wait to get to it, to have Agron sweaty, panting, out of control on top of him, below him, beside him.

"Stop, stop," Agron said, and slid off. 

"Stop what?" Nasir asked, lost.

"You were talking about fucking and--" Agron shook his head.

Nasir faced him fully on the narrow bed. He didn't even know he'd been talking out loud. "Sorry."

Agron's smile was pained. "Don't be. But maybe we shouldn't get carried away."

It was on the tip of his tongue to say fuck my rules, fuck my issues, fuck my screwed up past. But even as he thought it he realized he wasn't ready. Not quite yet.

Just then, his phone, which must have been vibrating all this time, finally slid off his nightstand. He turned to pick it up and saw that Mira had left four messages, Naevia one. He opened the first of Mira's and his blood ran cold at the word that kept repeating throughout the texts: Ashur. There was no emergency yet, just a warning for something looming on the horizon, but it pierced the buoyant bubble Nasir had been in for the past two weeks.

"Nasir?" Agron's voice sounded like it came from underwater. "Nasir? Hey, what's up?"

"A long story," Nasir said, wincing at the sound of his voice, the immediate worry that appeared on Agron's face. "Do you have some time?"

Agron's hands were gentle as they caressed his cheeks, as they held him in place so that their eyes would meet.

"Always," Agron said, and something in Nasir broke free. He kissed Agron briefly on his lips and planned to start from the very beginning.


	5. Agron

Agron grabbed the tequila from the floor and gave it to Nasir. He saw two cups on Nasir's desk, both lying on top of a stack of medical textbooks and went to the tiny bathroom to rinse them out, and when he returned, Nasir had already opened the bottle. His head was bent and when he looked up, Agron saw salt packets from fast food restaurants. An orange that was tilting more on the bad side than good was roughly split up; a citrus scent perfumed the air, a smell that always reminded him of Nasir.

"No limes," Nasir said, apologetic.

"Nothing to worry about," Agron said. He sat down on the bed facing Nasir. "You don't have to tell me," he said, even though he really wanted to know. His brother had told him before that all of a person is worth knowing, even the rotten parts that people hid within them because they're ashamed of them. There was nothing about Nasir that he didn't want to know (except maybe how many people Nasir had slept with, because Agron was aware of his jealousy issues). "This is still so new," he rationalized, building a case towards a result he didn't particularly want. "And I don't want you to share anything you'd regret. It's a school night."

Nasir stared at him and Agron could feel himself flush. Nasir's laugh was welcome, a vibrant sound that made the sting of embarrassment fade, and Agron didn't really mind at all -- he joined in.

"It is only Thursday," Nasir said, almost convincingly solemn.

"This is more of a Saturday confession."

"Would get in the way of parties and practice and orgies."

"Sunday?"

"Better," Nasir said, "if I went to church."

"We can pretend. The tequila'll help." Agron held Nasir's arm and turned it so that his palm was facing up, with his other hand, he poured some tequila in the two cups, the term shot only applicable if it referred to a cannonball. Once he was done pouring, he put the bottle down and licked a line straight up Nasir's forearm, Nasir's gasp an exhilarating sound. The salt packet tore easily in his hands and he poured the contents on Nasir's arm, the line of white a stark contrast on the dark brown skin. He licked the salt in one smooth motion, gulped the tequila then bit into one of the rough orange quarters. The tequila burned all the way down, the salt doing nothing and the orange not tart enough to improve the flavor.

"Why did we pick tequila again?" he asked between heaving breaths.

Nasir was smiling and said, "I don't know." 

Agron felt himself pushed down on the bed, Nasir's quick hands pushing his shirt close to his neck. He licked a line of fire on Agron's chest and laid down the salt. Agron heard himself panting -- it sounded so loud in the quiet room. His jeans felt like they were about to burst open. Nasir then pressed his tongue to the bottom of the salt stripe on the top of Agron's stomach and traced a long, slow, wet path up his chest. Agron arched his back to make more contact, his body begging for it, but Nasir took a shot of the tequila and bit into the orange. Agron's eyes blurred with lust and Nasir soon gave him relief, scrambling up for a dangerous, tequila-salt-orange laced kiss. They were still fully clothed, Agron the most naked with his shirt pulled up almost over his shoulders. He plunged his hands into Nasir's thick, dark hair and kissed back with everything he had as they rubbed against each other frantically, as if this would be the only chance they would get before a long war. He could feel it building, building, building -- Nasir's thrusts growing erratic, his lacking control over his own strength, almost bucking Nasir off on occasion.

No, Agron thought. He pushed Nasir back, Nasir looking angry and confused.

"Waiting," Agron stuttered out.

Nasir's face was a wonder to watch, and Agron had a feeling then, hating himself a little for the sentiment, that there would be days wherein he'd drag this memory out during the worst times, the fights they would have and remember this moment, remember how Nasir's face softened as if all pressure and stress left it, as if a persistent ache he had gotten used to being there suddenly disappeared without a trace.

"I should make this clear," Nasir said. "I should have said something already. I'm done with waiting. Especially right now." He pounced forward and Agron felt the bounce of the bed and it didn't take much longer. They didn't even get the chance to unzip their pants. Agron buried his howl on Nasir's neck and absorbed Nasir's shudders, his whispers of Agron mixed with his real name, both names sounding like they fit.

Agron mouthed kisses along Nasir’s ear, inhaled the scent of him where it was best and strongest.

“I didn’t expect that,” Nasir said.

“Neither did I,” Agron said. “I’m happy it happened though.”

“Same here,” Nasir said, and the last of Agron’s reservations disappeared with the obvious contentment in Nasir’s voice.

They will spend the rest of the night exploring each other, Agron learning the feel of Nasir’s skin, licking the ugly-beautiful scar on Nasir’s side. The tequila will lie forgotten on the table, the cups put in a safer location so they wouldn’t spill. Nasir will tell Agron what he likes and Agron will do the same and they’ll laugh about the how many are the same. They will sleep for an hour and then wake up and find out more secrets, try out new tricks. They will repeat the pattern over and over again throughout the night.

But right now, Agron was _happy_ and if the night had ended there, he’d have counted his blessings.

~ ~ ~ ~

Agron didn't hear the story, but knew it would only be a matter of time. He knew a clue now though: Ashur. That was enough, and considering what he had gained on that Thursday school night, it was an embarrassment of riches.

~ ~ ~ ~

He walked into the locker room whistling something he heard on the radio on the way to practice. Nasir and the girls couldn't make it to practice today but they were going to be at Thrace later on, and it was going to be a weekend celebration. He took off his clothes and started changing into his gear.

"What's wrong with you?" Crixus asked.

Not even Crixus' surliness could disrupt his day. "Nothing," he said. "How's Naevia?"

Crixus' eyebrows rose. "Naevia's good," he said.

"Good," Agron said. "Nasir thinks the world of her."

He didn't think Crixus' eyebrows could go that high, but they did. Agron shrugged and returned to changing. He noticed Donar and Lugo off to the side, mouthing 'got laid?' to which he rolled his eyes. They whooped and whistled and even if it wasn't true, the locker room was soon convinced Agron got lucky.

"Ignore them," Spartacus said. He leaned in closer to Agron's side and said, "I hope you used protection. Statistically speaking, most college students don't use condoms because they're either drunk or think they know better. You know about the Condom Connection at the Olin Health Center, don't you?"

Agron laughed out loud then. "Always the boy scout," he said, shaking his head. Spartacus clapped him on the shoulder.

"Attention please, gentlemen." The Doctor's stern voice echoed throughout the locker room and Agron's spine straightened as if by command. They gathered in a group close to Spartacus and watched as the Doctor stood in front of them. 

"Please be advised that the president of the school was able to get a gifted athlete to transfer here with us to join the Spartans," he said, his tightly controlled voice leashing in its volume. He beckoned to his left and a guy -- not that tall, looked strong, Agron noted -- joined him.

"This is Ashur," the Doctor said. "Make him feel welcome."

There were only a few moments in Agron's life that were so decisively split between the road before and the road after. His brother's death. Meeting Spartacus. The Doctor telling him he was good, not great. Nasir. And now this, a sinking feeling in his chest, of knowing a bad change was about to come. He looked at Crixus and Spartacus whose faces remained unchanged and realized that neither knew. Not that Agron knew himself the full extent of it, but Nasir had dropped enough hints without meaning to last night that Agron knew the story involved Naevia, Mira and him. 

He would have to hear the story soon. He would somehow have to convince Naevia and Mira to share it with them. Agron's happiness curdled at the edges at the thought of this intruder disrupting what he has just recently discovered. He breathed in and out deliberately, slow and deep. He thought of Nasir, of what happened just last night, and knew he would fight to protect it.


	6. Interlude -- Naevia and Mira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't Nasir's story to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains sexual assault.

Naevia had attended a party, a mixer of some sort at someone’s off-campus residence. Crixus was away on team business, but Naevia was fearless at college events -- everyone knew she was Crixus' girlfriend and that afforded her protection. She never used his reputation in any way, but she enjoyed the benefits, especially at events like this. And the people who didn't know usually knew soon enough, which was one of the many good things about MSU having an amazing college athletics program. It helped that Crixus was scouted by the NFL along with Spartacus, but Spartacus said he was going to finish college before playing for the NFL, and Crixus, loyal to a fault once it was earned, followed in his footsteps.

"The girlfriend" was not a role she signed up for, but when it came to Crixus, she didn't mind being known as that. There were worse things to be. And maybe she had gotten used to that security. Everyone always treated her well, and what happened to the people that crossed her were legendary in their own right. 

During the party, she had a drink offered by someone who had just come in from out of town, a new guy whose name she wasn't able to catch. Ashton? Astor?

Everything started to weave and bob after a few minutes.

"Just getting some air," she said to Mira. The fresh air felt good when she stepped outside. She inhaled deeply, relishing the freshly cut grass and green apple smell of the tiny yard outside. It worked to alleviate the dizziness for a few seconds, but it came back stronger than ever. She aimed for Mira's general direction to ask for her help, but she got so dizzy that she stopped in one of the bedrooms to catch her breath.

Someone pushed her from behind and stuffed her mouth with a sock. The door slammed shut. Her brand new panties, black with pink trim, were yanked away. Her limbs felt like tree trunks, heavy and anchored. She wasn't able to fight back and she couldn't scream and after a certain point, she welcomed the spiral into the yawning dark void.

 

 

Mira was introduced to someone named Ashur at a party. She didn't give him much thought -- seemed like a nice enough guy who was interested in joining the football team (tough luck there). He had his eye on Naevia, but when Mira told him that she was taken, he seemed to take it with good humor.

The next time she saw him, he was coming out of one of the bedrooms. He didn't hear her when she called his name. She went into the room and it was one of those moments that crystallized forever in her head, how brutal the world could be to women, even in a country like this, and especially to women like Naevia who now had to live with this.

She took out the sock in Naevia's mouth. She called 911 and rode with her to the hospital, waited until she regained consciousness and tried not to cry when Naevia first realized what happened. They cried together when the sympathetic nurse told them about the rape kit, that the morning-after pill was an option, that she would need more testing for STDs.

Mira told the police officer everything that she saw. Naevia told the same officer what she could remember. There was hope for the justice system.

Until there wasn't.

 

 

"What will I tell Crixus?" Naevia asked.

"This isn't about Crixus," Mira said. "This is about you, and what you want to do. You call the shots."

 

 

Naevia told Crixus what happened with one crucial piece of information edited out. She wasn't sure yet, and the police officers were making her feel insane, like anything she said about the night couldn't be believed because she was drugged.

The night she told Crixus was seared in her mind and she took comfort in that, that other things could be just as powerful, and that in time, this too would be something that she went through, not something she was living moment to moment. At the end of it, things were still far from OK. Naevia knew she would still have nightmares sometimes, that this would be something to get over. But she knew she had a worthy man by her side, who loved her then and who would love her as she was now. With tears in his eyes, he knelt before her and swore right there and then he would stand by her, no matter what.

 

 

"How do we prove that it's Ashur?" Mira asked.

"We find out everything that we know about him," Naevia said.

After Googling and stalking Facebook, after talking to other men who said that you’d never know Ashur stabbed you until you had already bled yourself dry, and most importantly, after talking to six women who would hang up the phone or ask them to stop e-mailing or turn pale and refuse to talk after Ashur’s name was mentioned, Naevia and Mira knew they had an answer, even if it was an answer the police wouldn’t do anything about. He was protected, that much was obvious.

Ironically, Ashur was part of a Syrian American group that promoted tolerance and inclusivity, especially through athletics. The seventh person they spoke to in the organization was a gentle, helpful man called Nasir. They decided he was worth talking to even more when he couldn't quite conceal the curl of his lip when Ashur's name was brought up. With a round of drinks that started out mercenary on their part but turned into genuine feelings of friendship at the end, they found out that Nasir and Ashur were temporary roommates until his room in Brody Complex freed up.

"He keeps mementoes," Nasir said. "And I can't blame him, I guess, for being popular. But does he have to show those off?"

“Mementoes?”

"Panties," he said.

Naevia felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. “What’s his latest one?” She tightened her grip around Mira’s hand and felt Mira squeeze back.

"The one he keeps flashing around now though is black with some pink stripes on it. He keeps saying it's from the hottest girl he'd ever seen in his entire life."

 

 

Nasir's face paled when all the dots were connected for him.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"Give us time with him," Naevia said.

Nasir did. "Sometimes you have make things right on your own," he said, steel in his eyes.

He gave them the opportunity.

Mira gave Naevia protection and back-up outside the door. 

Naevia delivered her own brand of justice.

 

 

The gossip mill in athletic circles at MSU was ridiculous -- they were basically the National Enquirer in jockstraps and sports bras. Spartacus was actually a runaway member of Ku Klux Klan, which was why he felt the need to change the world. Crixus initiated new teammates by beating them up every day for a week, often to the point that the players couldn't stand up. Agron was part of a debauched orgy that involved five girls, a hot tub and a squirrel. Lugo and Donar were lovers way back from high school. 

The newest rumor, spreading like fungus and often declared the most unbelievable, was that of a great kicker who was apparently _that_ good because he only had one testicle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, readers - fic currently on hiatus due to family crisis. (as of May 5, 2012)


End file.
